


Suffering Leads to Hate

by FallingThroughTheFloor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: And Then Died in His Arms in Rebels, And Then Killed Obi-Wan's Girlfriend in a Weird Attempt at Bonding, Angst and Tragedy, Consensual Violence, Dathomir (Star Wars), Does Dave Filoni Ship This Can Someone Ask Him?, Dude Literally Conquered a Planet to Get Obi-Wan's Attention, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Hate Sex, Let's Be Real: These Two Are Basically The Hannigram Of The SW Universe, M/M, Murder Husbands, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obsession, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, The Dark Side of the Force, Unhappy Ending, in love with your carnage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingThroughTheFloor/pseuds/FallingThroughTheFloor
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi managed to evade the Empire for almost a year after Order 66. He was so tired: tired of running, tired of hiding, and tired of remembering the names of the dead…Eventually, he had nowhere else to go. Better to die than to be captured.But instead of dying, he was rescued by the last person in the galaxy he ever wanted to see again: Darth Maul.They still hated each other. They still wanted to destroy one another. They still wanted revenge. But hatred, destruction, and revenge can take many different forms…





	1. We Are The Dead

_Mace Windu. Kit Fisto. Agen Kolar. Saesee Tiin._

Obi-Wan repeated their names over and over.

_Ki-Adi-Mundi. Aayla Secura. Plo Koon. Stass Allie. Depa Billaba._

The litany of the dead.

_Padmé Amidala. Shaak Ti. Cin Drallig. Hundreds of younglings whose names I never learned._

He was one of the few who survived, and so it was his duty to remember them.

_The ones whose fate I might never know: Quinlan Vos. Luminara Unduli. Jocasta Nu. Ahsoka Tano._

He recited their names like a mantra. A meditation on the massacred.

_Anakin Skywalker. The first and final casualty of Order 66._

No, not Anakin, he reminded himself. Anakin’s first death, the death of his soul, was Palpatine’s fault, but the blame for his final death, cut to pieces on Mustafar, rested on Obi-Wan alone.

_I killed Anakin Skywalker. I dismembered him and let him burn while I screamed at him for his failures. I let him die slowly and in agony._

If it hadn’t been for Padmé, if it hadn’t been for her unborn child _(children,_ he reminded himself), if he hadn’t had a duty to get her to safety—

_I would have thrown myself into the inferno with him. I would have given him a merciful death. I would have ended both of our suffering._

Instead, Obi-Wan survived.

And remembered.

_Mace Windu. Kit Fisto. Agen Kolar. Saesee Tiin…_

* * *

He couldn’t stay here. He said that he would, he told Yoda that he would… but it was impossible.

Obi-Wan delivered Luke to Owen and Beru Lars, accompanied by the vaguest of explanations for what happened to Luke’s parents. He had planned to live nearby, out in the Wastes somewhere, protecting Luke from a distance until he was ready to begin his training.

But when the time came, after he left the Lars farm, he headed back to the spaceport and caught the first ship that would take him away.

To sit for years, talking to ghosts, thinking about what he could have done to prevent all of this tragedy… he couldn’t bear it. Not on Anakin’s home planet. Not with Anakin’s son nearby, already starting to look like his father even at a few days old.

Staying on Tatooine might actually put Luke in more danger—Obi-Wan had been a public figure during the war and his face had been on news holoreels across the galaxy; it was completely possible that he would be recognized even out here in the dregs of the Outer Rim. This was a desert planet, he would have to go into town for supplies at least once in awhile, and if he was discovered then the Empire would come and wonder why a Jedi would choose to hide here of all places.

He told Luke’s new guardians that he would check in on them occasionally. In the meantime, he needed to escape: this planet, his memories, and his grief.

* * *

For a time, it had been enough: shaving his beard, cutting his hair, changing the way he dressed. But then his stubble had gotten too long and his hair had grown out and the clothes didn’t make a difference, so it was only a matter of time before someone recognized him.

Obi-Wan had assumed that a planet like Ord Mantell, where the Black Sun crime syndicate was based, would not look too closely at its visitors, but apparently the bounty on Obi-Wan Kenobi was much higher than he realized. Hiding or fighting would do him no good, not with that many bounty hunters on his trail, so his only option was to flee. He stole the freighter he had been a passenger on and tried to escape the dozen-or-so ships that were in pursuit.

_Anakin would have known the best ship to steal. He would have known which one was fastest. He would have gotten away._

Obi-Wan had managed to escape capture for almost a year. He had done his best to forget what he was running away from.

But he couldn’t run forever.

At this point, he didn’t mind dying. There was the matter of who would train Luke and Leia, but he was sure that Yoda was up to the task. He would probably do a better job than Obi-Wan would, anyway. Only one of Yoda’s students had fallen to the Dark Side in all the hundreds of years that he had taught Jedi Knights; Obi-Wan only had a single apprentice and somehow managed to ruin him in the span of a single decade.

_And then I killed him._

If he was being honest with himself, he was tired of surviving. Sure, he had his lightsaber and he could probably fight off most of the bounty hunters that were in the process of trying to board his ship, but in all likelihood he would eventually be captured.

Obi-Wan didn’t want to know what the Empire did with captured Jedi. There were rumors that Palpatine had acquired another apprentice, but information about them was almost impossible to find. No name. No images. No background. There were rumors of a mask. Whoever it was, they were nothing like Dooku, who had been constantly, _annoyingly_ visible.

Obi-Wan didn’t want to know who was under the mask.

He didn’t want to find out.

He felt the hull of his ship shudder. Someone had managed to get close enough to attach a boarding conduit.

Enough. It was time to join the rest of the dead Jedi.

Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and cut a hole in the hull, at which point everything, including him, was vented out into space.

_Ord Mantell doesn’t look like much from up here, but the stars are beautiful…_

* * *

The Force wouldn’t let him die that easily.

Obi-Wan woke up disappointed.

His body ached and his skin had the irritating itchiness that usually accompanied brief exposure to vacuum. The lack of more severe symptoms, however, indicated that he hadn’t been out in space for very long.

The only bright spot was that he wasn’t in any restraints. He didn’t even seem to be locked up; this section of the ship (and it was definitely a ship, though not the one he had just cut his way out of) was a large open space, not a small cell.

Obi-Wan sat up slowly, feeling his joints screaming in protest, and saw that he had been resting on some kind of table in what looked like a cargo hold.

He wasn’t alone; in fact, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he realized that he recognized this presence in the Force.

“That was an unnecessarily complicated way to kill yourself, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan sighed. Of course it was him. “At least you’re here to finish the job.”

“As in so many things, Kenobi,” Maul said as Obi-Wan turned to face him, “you are entirely wrong.”

He couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “Thinking of collecting that bounty yourself?”

The Zabrak Sith actually rolled his eyes. “Hardly. Whatever fate the Empire may subject you to would not be nearly as satisfying as what I have in mind for you.”

“And what would that be?” He was so tired. He just wanted this to be over.

Maybe he could infuriate Maul into killing him in a rage before he could carry out whatever revenge fantasy he had planned.

Obi-Wan could be part of another litany of the dead: _Qui-Gon Jinn. Adi Gallia. Satine Kryze._

“What I have always intended: to destroy you. Utterly,” Maul said; Obi-Wan was fairly sure that Maul hadn’t looked away from him or even blinked during this entire conversation. He just kept _staring_ at Obi-Wan as though he couldn't quite believe that he was actually there.

Obi-Wan waved a hand in an almost-beckoning gesture. “I assume you have a lightsaber. You might as well get on with it.”

Maul smiled; as usual, it was not a pleasant smile. “Not yet.”

“How did you find me?” Obi-Wan asked wearily.

“We were destined to meet again, Kenobi. Besides, do you think I am so far removed from Lord Sidious’ sphere that I wouldn’t be able to discover that you had survived Mustafar?”

_Mustafar._  Obi-Wan tried to hold back the wave of grief and guilt. The memory of Anakin, screaming what were probably his final words: _“I hate you!”_

Maul’s smile actually widened. “Ah yes… Tell me, what kind of Jedi leaves someone to burn like that? Especially his own apprentice?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help it: he flinched.

Maul noticed. “No wonder you flourished in a time of war, Kenobi,” he said softly. “Your only talents lie in causing death and destruction. If the purge of the Jedi had not happened, you would have withered in peacetime. You would have immolated everything around you just to feel like you had a purpose again. The Jedi would have cut you down like a wild beast, full of nothing but hunger and rage.”

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” Obi-Wan snapped.

“I like to think that you would have run instead,” Maul said, ignoring him. “The way you have been running all this time. One direction. One destination. Only one possible outcome: here. With me.”

“I would never have sought you out,” he retorted.

_Qui-Gon Jinn. Adi Gallia. Satine Kryze. I can never forget what he has done._

“Of course you would,” Maul said, almost soothingly. “This is our destiny.” He turned away, likely returning to the front of the ship. “You may as well rest; it will be a few hours more until we reach Dathomir.”

Obi-Wan sighed again. Of course it would be Dathomir.

* * *

Obi-Wan had been here before. The most recent time was shortly before the war ended, with Quinlan Vos. The waters where they laid Asajj Ventress’ body to rest were still green.

Dooku and the Separatists had wiped out the Nightsisters and then, later on, the Nightbrothers as well. The world was eerily quiet but the smell of decay was everywhere.

“Is _anything_ alive here?” Obi-Wan muttered as they left Maul’s ship.

“Not anymore,” Maul said, looking distant for a moment, then amended his statement: “Other than rancors, of course.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. The last time he was here, the planet seemed full of echoes, millions of spirits of the dead pressing in on him; now it just seemed empty.

Maybe he had spent so much time with ghosts that he was used to it by now.

_(…Mace Windu. Ki-Adi-Mundi. Padmé Amidala. Kit Fisto. Plo Koon. Agen Kolar. Aayla Secura. Saesee Tiin. Stass Allie. Depa Billaba. Shaak Ti. Cin Drallig…)_

Too many ghosts to count.

_(Anakin Skywalker.)_

Yoda claimed that he was able to speak with Qui-Gon's ghost and that Obi-Wan could learn to do it as well, but he hadn’t tried. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what he would even say to his former Master.

Especially now that he was in the company of Qui-Gon’s murderer.

Maul had taken his lightsaber, but it wouldn’t take much effort to get it back. He could ignite it, cut Maul down, avenge his Master—

_Revenge? What kind of Jedi seeks revenge?_

_Is it the kind of Jedi who leaves his apprentice to burn?_

No. Those were Maul’s words, not his.

“I could sense that,” Maul said, looking… amused? “That flash of hatred. Was it for me?”

Obi-Wan refused to answer that. He wasn’t even sure what the answer was.

“The Dark Side of the Force is strong on Dathomir,” Maul continued. “Surely you’ve felt it: the power that stretches all the way to the planet’s very core.”

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. Quinlan had told him about the time he spent here as Ventress’ disciple and about how easy it was to touch the Dark Side in this place. Obi-Wan hadn’t really noticed it on his last trip here—there was too much grief on Quinlan’s part and too much confusion on Obi-Wan’s part—but now that Maul had pointed it out, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He decided to change the subject. “So,” Obi-Wan asked, “should I start looking forward to being a rancor snack?”

Maul looked annoyed. “How many times do I need to hammer this into your head, Kenobi? You are not dying yet.”

“I’ll confess to being surprised: isn’t killing me what you’ve always wanted?”

With a snarl, Maul shoved him to the ground; Obi-Wan could already feel blood seeping from the gash that a tree root (well, what counted as a tree on Dathomir, at least) had torn open on his hand. “I have told you, _again and again,_  that I never planned to kill you.”

Somewhere between the pain and the dark, a red-hot spark of fury flared along with a memory:

_“I never planned on killing you, but I will make you_ _share_ _my pain, Kenobi.”_

And then Maul drove his saber through Satine’s chest.

“Then what _do_ you want?” Obi-Wan demanded, pushing that mental image as far away as he could. “What possible fate of mine would satisfy you, Maul? That I suffer? That I lose everything I ever loved?” His hands curled into fists, the wounded one sending a spike of agony up his arm. _"_ _You’re too late._ Your former master already accomplished that. There is _nothing more_ you could take from me!”

Maul smiled down at him. “There,” he said, almost pleasantly, “now you understand.”

“I _really_ don’t,” Obi-Wan snapped.

“Your Jedi are gone. Your Republic is gone. Your friends are gone. All you have left is your anger. And here, in this place, I will watch that anger grow and destroy you.”

“So that’s your plan? Turn me to the Dark Side?” Obi-Wan scoffed. “Apparently _you_ forgot something: I told you on Mandalore that only the weak embrace the Dark Side.”

“But you have had your own moments of weakness, haven’t you?” Maul appeared to be enjoying himself. “Every time I saw you, I watched you struggle to hold back your hatred of me, and I saw the moments when you faltered. Ever since Naboo, our first duel, the look of hatred you gave me when I killed your Master…” He took a moment to savor the memory. “If only you _had_ embraced the Dark Side on Mandalore, Kenobi… she would have lived.”

“That is a _lie,”_ he said through teeth that he was desperately trying to unclench. “You would have killed her anyway.”

_“Remember, my dear Obi-Wan, I've loved you always… I always will.”_

She died in his arms.

_Qui-Gon Jinn. Adi Gallia. Satine Kryze. I can never forget._

“What would have been the point of that?” Maul asked. “To punish you? You made the _wrong choice,_  Kenobi, that is why she died. If you had chosen differently… letting her live would have been an even sweeter revenge. She would have seen you fall. She would have _known_ what you had become. And _you_ would have known that I had _rewarded_ you for it.”

Obi-Wan tried to get up, but Maul kicked him in the chest, slamming him back down to the ground and knocking the wind out of him.

“And the next time,” Maul said, that almost-soothing tone back in his voice, “it would have been easier for you to slip. Just for a moment. And even easier the next time, and the time after that, and the time after that… until the Obi-Wan Kenobi that went to Mandalore became a stranger even to himself. An outcast. A fugitive from his own Order. And then, like now, you would have had nowhere else to go except to me.”

“Another lie,” Obi-Wan gasped through the pain in his lungs. “You know nothing about me.”

“On the contrary, Kenobi,” Maul said, his voice growing softer, “I am the only one left who will ever understand you.”

“I didn’t _seek you out,"_ he snapped. “You _captured_ me.”

“I _rescued_ you,” Maul corrected him. “And there is nothing keeping you here if you truly want to leave.” He tossed Obi-Wan’s lightsaber onto the ground beside him. “Take your saber. Take the ship… but we both know that you won’t.”

“You’re delusional.” Obi-Wan sat up again and slowly climbed to his feet, lightsaber in hand. This time, Maul refrained from kicking him. “Of course I'm leaving, assuming your offer is even genuine.”

“And go where?” the Zabrak asked. “Another few months on the run until your disguise fails again? Or perhaps you’ll just pilot the ship into the nearest star. Of course, it would be far easier to impale yourself on that lightsaber… less expensive, at least. But you don’t want any of that, do you?” Maul stepped in closer. “You’re a general without an army to lead. A warrior without a war to fight. A Knight without an Order… without any orders at all.” He grabbed Obi-Wan’s chin between a finger and thumb. “You need purpose. I can provide that.”

Obi-Wan jerked his head out of Maul’s grip. “I will never join you,” he hissed.

His lightsaber felt so heavy in his hand. He wondered if cutting Maul in half again would be a good first step.

“There is no place out there for the hatred that you carry, Kenobi.” This might have been the closest they had ever stood together without one of them trying to kill the other. “But here… here, you could be transformed by it.”

Obi-Wan shoved his way past him and ran. Maul didn’t follow him.

* * *

The ship was completely functional as far as he could tell.

_Anakin would have known for sure. He would have been able to repair it if it was broken._

_But Anakin turned out to be the thing that was broken. And no one, not even me, could fix it._

_I only have one talent: death and destruction._

No. Those were Maul’s words again.

Obi-Wan started the ship’s systems and waited for it to finish pressurizing. Everything was working so far. Nothing was damaged or sabotaged. He could leave and go wherever he wanted.

But Maul _had_ sabotaged something on that ship: him.

_There is nowhere for me to go._

He was so tired: of running, of hiding, of remembering…

He was so sick of being himself and so frightened of becoming anyone else.

At least here, the worst had already happened.

He shut off the ship’s startup cycle and lowered the ramp.

Maul was waiting for him outside.

Neither of them spoke on their way to the village where millions of ghosts dwelled.


	2. Not Out of Hope, But In Mere Spite

The place where Maul lived could best be described as a _lair._

Actually, to call it _living_ might be stretching it a bit too far.

It was a cave. Full of junk—likely a combination of his own possessions and whatever remained from the Nightsisters who once inhabited this place.

The skies of Dathomir were too thick with clouds to let much sunlight in as it was, and very little of it reached inside of the cave. The only source of light was fire-based, mostly candles.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to call it “uncivilized”—out loud, at least; he was perfectly capable of being judgmental in silence.

He sat down on an object that might have been a bed; he honestly wasn’t sure. Meanwhile, Maul appeared to be looking for something in the heaps of rubbish that filled the space.

As much as he refused to admit it, Obi-Wan hadn’t eaten in almost two days at this point and was starving. “Is there any food here?” he asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“In there,” Maul said, gesturing vaguely at a supply crate halfway between them.

Obi-Wan opened the lid to find a pile of identical foil packets. “Just ration bars?” he asked, not caring if he sounded snobbish. Had it not been for Mustafar, this would have been the worst planet he had ever visited.

“Unless you have a craving for rancor,” Maul said, flashing a mouthful of teeth in what might technically count as a smile. “But for that you would be on your own.”

“Where does all this even come from?”

“What did you think I was doing near Ord Mantell to begin with?” Maul asked. “I was performing my usual duty of reminding the Black Sun who they owe their continued existence to, and picking up supplies along the way.”

“You left to go shopping for _food?”_ Obi-Wan asked, slightly bewildered.

“And the occasional Jedi, it seems. Incidentally, if you wanted a way to show your gratitude for your rescue, you might consider lending a hand when I unload the ship later.”

“I'm still not convinced that you won't try to eat _me_ at some point,” he said drily.

Maul looked annoyed. “You will have to deal with your death wish in some other manner, Kenobi. I have other things to do with my time.”

Obi-Wan looked around at their dismal surroundings. “I can’t imagine what that would be.”

“Find a way to occupy yourself,” Maul said, rummaging through a pile that appeared to be half weapons and half rocks. “I am not your mother.”

“Thank goodness for that.” He stood and began to wander around, trying to make sense of this place.

There was a comm unit in one corner, complete with a holoprojector. Obi-Wan eyed it uneasily as he remembered something. “Back on the ship, you said that you were able to find out that I had survived. Are you working for Palpatine again?”

“To a degree,” Maul said, looking up from his search. Obi-Wan's expression must have changed in some way, because he gave a brief snort of laughter before adding. “You needn't be concerned for yourself: your presence here can remain a secret.”

Obi-Wan noticed that he had said _‘_ _can_ _remain a secret’_ rather than  _'_ _will_ _remain a secret.’_ “Then what did you mean by ‘to a degree'?” he asked, still wary.

“Sidious gives me the occasional task—dealing with things in the underworld, primarily—but he largely leaves me to my own devices.” Something in his eyes hardened. “He made it very clear that I am no longer his apprentice.” Maul then gave Obi-Wan a look that was almost amused. “He is focused on his _new_ apprentice now, of course.”

Obi-Wan sighed. The unknown new apprentice, the one behind the mask.

Maul was still looking at him, as though waiting for a response, before his eyes widened in realization. “You don't know, do you?”

“Who his apprentice is? No, I don't,” Obi-Wan confirmed, a little annoyed.

Maul's face practically lit up; he looked as though someone had just given him a wonderful gift. “Oh, but you _do_ know.”

An unpleasant chill began to crawl up Obi-Wan's spine.

_No._

_Don't let it be who I think it is._

_Let me be wrong._

Maul moved to the comm unit and entered a sequence of commands. The holoprojector lit up with an image of a crowded space, full of fearful people with blasters drawn.

“The remains of the Separatists have proved… difficult to control,” he said, beckoning Obi-Wan to come closer.

His feet felt like they were moving of their own free will.

_I don't want to see this._

“So who would be better suited to deal with them than the man who was their greatest foe in the war?”

A figure dressed in black, with a matching death's head mask, entered the scene.

_I can't watch this._

“His apprentice, the one he hand-picked for his new Empire.”

_Please no…_

Maul's next words were spoken slowly, and with obvious relish: “Darth Vader.”

“No,” Obi-Wan breathed in horror, “that's not true… that's impossible…”

“Do not bother to lie to _me,_  Kenobi,” Maul said, a delighted smile growing on his face, “you _know_ that it's true.”

“No!”

_It can't be him. He can't be alive._

_I killed him._

“You've _always_ known, you just didn't want to admit it: you didn't kill him, you left him to burn because you wanted him to suffer, you wanted him to survive and live in constant agony—”

“That wasn't what I meant to do—” Obi-Wan cried.

_“Yes it was!_ You don't kill Sith, you've never killed a single Sith, because you know that there are so many things that are worse than killing. You wanted to torture him just like you tortured me!”

Maul grabbed him by the back of his shirt and shoved him down onto the console until Obi-Wan's face was directly in front of the holoprojector. “Look at him! Look at what you created!”

Obi-Wan watched the figure in the black mask, the black suit, the black cape, cut apart the group of Separatist holdouts with his lightsaber.

His body language, the way he walked… it was like looking through a warped lens, so familiar and yet not.

The way he held his saber, not the same one but a new one—

_This weapon is your_ _life ,_ _Anakin—_

Anakin. It was Anakin.

Darth Vader. He survived. Palpatine must have arrived in time, must have… _rebuilt_ his apprentice, locked him up in a mask and a suit with a life support system on his chest and then, when he was ready, unleashed him on the galaxy.

He survived. Obi-Wan hadn't killed him. He had instead left him to a fate worse than death.

_He was burning… there must be so little left of him now…_

“He is your masterpiece, Kenobi,” Maul hissed into his ear, still holding him down. “Your finest creation…”

“I didn't—” Obi-Wan tried to protest, but Maul tightened his grip and continued talking.

“If you would only follow those urges that you keep denying, if you would only cultivate them as the inspirations that they are… you could become something magnificent.” He released his hold on Obi-Wan's shirt. “Stop fighting it,” Maul whispered, still leaning over him. “The Jedi are gone, there is no one to scold you anymore. You are finally free, Kenobi, free to do whatever you wish.”

“I'm not like _you,"_  Obi-Wan growled, slamming his hand on the button that turned off the projector. “I don't spend all my time thinking about hurting people—”

“Of course you do, of _course_ you do—you are your first and best victim. I saw you fling yourself into the vacuum of space. You _are_ like me, you are _exactly_ like me, the only person who hates you more than I do is _you—”_

“Stop it!” Obi-Wan shouted as he recoiled away from both the console and the person that had shoved him onto it in the first place. “I am nothing like you!”

Maul's accusations came faster and faster. “No one understands you the way that I do, Kenobi, not even you! You know _nothing_ about yourself, nothing about what lives inside of you, you run without knowing what you are running from! I won't kill you—I _refuse_ to kill you until you realize what you really are: you are _just like me._ This is why we are together, because you need me to show you what you can become if you would only _admit it—”_

“Admit _what?”_ he demanded, backing away another few steps.

“Admit your fear! Admit your anger! Let it deepen your hatred, let it make you powerful, let it set you free—”

“Stop _talking!”_ Obi-Wan roared.

_He is lying to me, all he has done is lie to me, twist my beliefs, torment me with his obsessions, telling me that I'm like him—I'm nothing like him, I could never be anything like him, I need him to just shut his mouth and stop saying these horrible things—_

_Why am I letting him influence me like this? He's done far worse to hurt me before, why is this working now when it didn't work before?_

_Why can't I just ignore him? Why can't I just leave?_

It was a surprisingly simple admission:

_I hate him._

_I hate him so much that it feels like a fire under my skin. I can't think about anything else._

_I hate him too much to think clearly, to remember the Code, to draw on the Force for—_

He could feel his hatred running in a straight line between here and the planet's core, a conduit of power that could only be the Dark Side.

_There is nowhere for me to go._

Cold ran through his veins and he could think clearly again. It was Obi-Wan and his hatred and Maul, and they were the only things that he needed right now.

_My only talent is my ability to cause death and destruction._

He lifted a hand and sent Maul flying across this pathetic excuse for a dwelling.

_Why not do what I do best, then?_

Maul crashed through a few items when he landed—a chair, a crate of supplies—and was still picking himself up off the floor when Obi-Wan used the Force to throw him against the nearest wall with a sickening thud.

_I wonder if I managed to surprise him._

Maul didn't have the chance to react before he was hit with another invisible blow and blasted back into the wall even harder than before.

It was suddenly so easy. Obi-Wan released wave after wave of energy, letting Maul stumble forward a few steps before flinging him backwards, over and over again.

_I didn't intend to torture Anakin—_

_(what if you did?)_

_—but here, with this man, with this_ _thing_ _, I will make him suffer. I will make him beg for death—_

He slammed Maul back into the wall and heard chips of stone beginning to crumble under the repeated impacts.

_—not because he is a Sith or because he killed Qui-Gon and so many others… but because I_ _want to._

Over and over again, his hatred taking over, releasing him from the burden of caring, of duty, of fear. He could feel Maul's pain after every collision—the sensation was incredible, echoing inside of him, so strong that he could actually taste it.

_Anakin, I understand now. I understand what dragged you down into the dark. I understand what took you away._

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?” Obi-Wan growled, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. “Are you beginning to regret that?”

He could hear the voices of hundreds of dead Dathomiri, promising him power, promising him pain and blood, promising him anything he could imagine, waiting for him at the heart of this sick and vengeful world.

_I want more than that. What I want is deeper than revenge._

_I want to devour him. I want to hold his death in my hands and hear him curse me with his dying breath._

Maul sagged a little against the wall. His eyes kept going out of focus, but he kept staring at Obi-Wan with a look that was more fascinated than afraid.

_I want him to fear me. I_ _need_ _him to fear me._

_What would you do if you were me, Anakin?_

_Oh, that's right…_

Obi-Wan curled one hand into a fist and slowly lifted it.

It was almost comical, the way that Maul's feet dangled in the air as he gasped for breath.

_I see now why Anakin attacked Padmé this way._

_It's… intimate._

_For once in your miserable life, be afraid of me._

But instead of fear, Maul's expression was one of… a strange satisfaction.

“No,” Obi-Wan snarled, now directly in front of him. He released his Force grip on Maul, but his hand remained in a fist.

His feet back on the ground, Maul took a few deep breaths.

And grinned.

“Stop it!” Obi-Wan yelled. _“Stop smiling!”_

He drove his fist into the Sith's face. His thoughts were beginning to cloud over again, that cold clarity escaping his grasp as fire raced across knuckles that kept hammering against a bleeding skull.

His link with the dark was fading. It hadn't vanished—the hatred was still there and something behind his eyes still felt like an inferno—but the resolve that had been propelling him started to slow down.

He finally let his arm drop to his side and could almost hear Anakin screaming the words along with him as he hissed into Maul's face: _“I hate you!”_

The fact that Maul was still conscious, let alone standing, was impressive. His eyes practically glowed as he leaned forward and put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to steady himself. “I know,” he said.

Then he moved his other hand to the back of Obi-Wan's neck and pulled him in until their faces were almost touching.

And then their lips met.

_No. No no no no no…_

_This can't be happening._

_I have to get away, I have to escape, or kill him, or do anything but this._

But his thoughts were now too chaotic to decide what to do, so his body took over: he let himself be pulled closer, let his hands move down and over, let the dark ache inside of him run free as they staggered back towards the crumbling wall, holding each other up, holding each other—

It was as though a thousand generations of Jedi screamed in unison:

_“WHAT ARE YOU_ _DOING_ _?”_

This was wrong on… well, on every possible level he could imagine. Sith. Murderer. Torturer. Personification of everything Obi-Wan despised. Destroyer of everything Obi-Wan loved.

_Qui-Gon Jinn. Adi Gallia. Satine Kryze._

_What kind of sick monster would do_ _this_ _with their murderer?_

But he didn't stop. He didn't pull away. He felt himself slipping, losing track of everything except for the creature pressed against him: his lips, his breath, his hands which were somehow everywhere, over his clothes, under his clothes…

They had managed to exhaust nearly every _other_ way of hurting each other, Obi-Wan thought idly as his hands searched along similar routes. This might as well be what happens next.

_(_ Another idle thought in the middle of this tangle: _apparently they fixed more than just his legs…)_

They sank down onto the ground, still clutching the other tightly. Obi-Wan heard the sound of fabric ripping. He tasted blood on his lips.

Everything felt burning hot and icy cold all at once. Stabs of pain mixed with waves of pleasure, a story about breath and teeth. Things he was in no way prepared for, the knife-like wound of starvation in places he hadn't ever thought about, instincts of self-preservation mixed with those of self-destruction, holding on, holding on…

_This is obscene._

_He is everything I hate. He is everything I loathe._

_He is all that I can think about right now._

Their bodies weren't the only things that were intertwining: through the oily tendrils of the Dark Side and the ruins of his own defenses, their thoughts began to coil together in a furious knot of obsession and desire.

_“I languished for years thinking of nothing but_ _you_ _!”_

_Every nightmare I ever had, you were there._

_“Nothing but this moment!”_

_You finally did it: you finally found a way to break my self-control._

_“I will make you_ _share_ _my pain!”_

_Anakin made me a better man. You made me a worse one._

_“Ever since Naboo, ever since you looked at me with such hatred…”_

_I should have known it would end this way._

_“Thoughts of destroying you were the only thing that kept me alive. Even with my mind fractured, my body broken, abandoned on a planet of filth, there was always you.”_

He kept waiting for the horror to catch up with him, but it never did. It was just the two of them and the darkness that drove every other thought out of his head as it all accelerated, his breathing coming harsh and fast, making sounds he never thought he would hear from his own mouth, everything too much, too intense, too—

He shattered like glass.

_Qui-Gon Jinn. Adi Gallia. Satine Kryze._

He felt himself falling into an abyss.

_Qui-Gon Jinn. Adi Gallia. Satine Kryze._

Another name joined the litany of the dead:

_Qui-Gon Jinn. Adi Gallia. Satine Kryze. Obi-Wan Kenobi._

Dead in Maul's embrace, but with something new rising from his remains.

* * *

At first, it followed a pattern: they would avoid each other until the silence grew too much to bear, then they would goad each other until one of them lost their temper, then they would try to beat the hell out of each other, and then it would all collapse into a twisted version of hatred and hunger as they reached for one another, trying to force their broken selves into a single being.

And in those moments, his thoughts full of nothing but breath and skin and muscle and blood, Obi-Wan could almost forget all of the ghosts he had abandoned and betrayed.

He could almost forget about Anakin, more machine than man, a servant of evil.

_And what does that make me?_

That pattern eventually fell apart: they stopped trying to find excuses to throw themselves together and just grabbed the other one when the mood struck. The violence and hatred didn't stop, though—now it just happened at the same time as everything else.

Fingers digging into shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood. Bruises. Bite marks. Scratches everywhere.

Whispers hissed into each other's ears, words that were meant to hurt just as badly:

_“Those Jedi ideals you claimed to follow were empty promises.”_

“All the years you spent obeying Sidious’ every whim were for nothing.”

_“You were no Jedi. You were a liar.”_

“No one ever cared for you.”

_“This is who you really are.”_

“You were nothing but a weapon, a tool, a slave.”

_“You are a monster.”_

“You are a monster.”

Each time, their encounters became easier, and even easier the time after that, and the time after that, and the time after that… until the Obi-Wan Kenobi that went to Dathomir became a stranger even to himself.

It _was_ attachment, he realized, but that of a conspiracy: they were conspiring against themselves.

Obi-Wan hated him. He hated himself as well, of course, even more so now that he had given way to the Dark Side, and he knew that the longer this went on the more entangled their fates would become.

But every time they touched each other, he stopped being able to care.

_I have to escape._

_But where can I go? I have nowhere else to go._

“After this,” he panted through a throat scraped raw, “I'm taking the ship, I'm leaving this disgusting place—”

“You won't,” Maul said, practically growling the words into his skin. “You know that you won't. You will go to the ship and then you'll turn around and return to me, just as you did the last time.”

“Not this time. I _have_ to leave—”

“Why?” Maul demanded. “Why would you leave?”

“I can't think while I'm here—”

“You don't _have_ to think!”

Obi-Wan's breathing was speeding up again, fueled by some kind of desperation that he couldn't quite identify. “If I just had a moment's _peace—”_ he cried.

Maybe he could calm his thoughts, find a way out, find a way to _fix_ all this, become himself again…

_Instead of a monster._

“You know that it wouldn't work,” Maul said. He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's cheek. “Peace is a lie, there is only passion—”

Obi-Wan swatted the hand away from his face. He had heard this before: the Sith's weak imitation of the Jedi Code. “Save the lesson,” he snapped. “I am not your apprentice.”

“No… of course not,” Maul said, moving in closer. “We have become equals. Once in opposition, but now… now we are as one. This has always been our destiny, Kenobi: standing side by side, together, as brothers.”

“Please tell me that you didn't do _this_ with your _actual_ brother,” Obi-Wan said drily.

The mention of Savage Opress was usually a good way to make Maul snap, and in this case he responded by backhanding Obi-Wan across the face. Maul's hand had barely left his jaw when Obi-Wan reacted on instinct and threw him across the room with the Force.

_Good. We'll both have new bruises after this._

One of Obi-Wan's fingers had fractured at one point and never healed. He had broken Maul's nose more times than he could count. It was the only way he could try to justify everything else that was happening. It was the only way he could pretend that he wasn't enjoying this.

His own nose was bleeding (but not broken, at least) by the time Maul picked himself off of the floor and returned to resume what they were originally doing. He could taste his own blood in Maul's mouth.

_He's right: I can't leave. I've trapped myself here: on this planet, in this place, at his side—_

“How does this end?” Obi-Wan managed to gasp at one point.

“Gloriously,” Maul said. He put his mouth right next to Obi-Wan's ear. “We will drag the galaxy into oblivion,” he whispered, “and die in each other's arms.”

_Yes… yes, that sounds right. It sounds true. It sounds… perfect, somehow._

Obi-Wan turned and locked eyes with him, suddenly feeling as though he were standing on a precipice. “Do you promise?” he asked.

Maul's grip on him tightened. “I _swear_ it.”

That might have been the nicest thing Maul had ever said to him, Obi-Wan thought to himself, before the burning wave of need returned and swept him back into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really couldn't help swiping a line from _Hannibal._ It just fit too well.


	3. The Infinite Oblivion

The first time that Obi-Wan Kenobi died was on Naboo. A Sith apprentice was lying in wait and, when his lightsaber killed Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan died too.

The person who left Naboo may have had his face and answered to his name, but he wasn't the same person who went there; that person was dead in a generator room with his Master.

Obi-Wan died again on Geonosis: the person who had traveled there on the trail of a bounty hunter was lying dead in an arena.

Then the war began and Obi-Wan fought a thousand battles and died in every single one of them.

He died on Christophsis. He died on Muunilinst. He died on Florrum. He died in the Citadel.

He went to Mandalore and confronted Maul and died again. The person who went to Mandalore was dead in a shared coffin, stabbed in the heart by the Darksaber.

The person who returned to the war wore his clothes and sat in his assigned seat on the Council and tried to act like he was the same person as before.

He went with Anakin to rescue Palpatine from General Grievous and Count Dooku and died when he was thrown into a railing and buried under debris. He went to Utapau and killed Grievous, and then Cody and the rest of the army received their orders and opened fire and Obi-Wan died again.

He returned to the Temple and saw what Anakin had done and he found himself dead along with the younglings. He hid in Padmé’s ship when she followed Anakin to Mustafar and he died a hundred deaths there: strangled, burned, hacked to pieces.

The person who went to Dathomir with Maul might have looked like him and sounded like him, but he wasn’t Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was dead. He died a long time ago on a planet called Naboo and had been dying over and over again ever since.

* * *

He thought about killing him all the time now.

It was so vivid in his head: the sensation of Maul's windpipe collapsing as Obi-Wan strangled him to death, the feeling of blood coating his hands after slitting Maul's throat, the smell of cauterizing flesh as Obi-Wan drove a lightsaber through his chest.

It turned out that one could fantasize in exquisite detail about murdering someone while simultaneously locked in a desperate embrace with them.

He knew that Maul was thinking the same things about him. It somehow made the whole thing even more intimate.

_“We will die in each other's arms…”_

Obi-Wan couldn't stop thinking about it:

_He's distracted by our usual method of destroying one another and I spot my chance. When I press the hilt of the saber to his stomach and ignite it, he gasps his pain and surprise into my mouth, but I can only savor the taste of it for a moment: he has his lightsaber too. The agony of the blade cutting across my chest feels like a gift. We both drop our sabers but neither of us can let go of each other._

_I hold the jagged piece of metal in my palm. He doesn't see it coming… or does he? Either way, there is nothing to stop me from cutting his throat open. I sever veins and arteries and cartilage with ease. There is so much blood; I've never seen so much blood before, I didn't realize how hot it was, it feels like it's burning my fingers. He is only seconds away from death but it is enough: he grabs my face with bloody hands and twists until my neck snaps._

_I light him on fire while he sleeps. I light us both on fire. I curl up beside him as we burn, holding him so he knows that I'm there._

_My hands are locked around his throat. I can feel him struggling, but growing weaker by the second. He won't stop looking at me and that's fine, that's perfectly fine—I want to see the life fade from his eyes. I draw the darkness into myself and use its strength to break his neck. His death isn't enough. It keeps calling to me, beckoning me. I put a blaster to my temple and pull the trigger._

This was attachment, but it wasn't affection, or even a dubious alliance.

This was a suicide pact.

He thought he would be more impatient for the inevitable end, but the constant blows of pain and loathing were, at least for the moment, better than nothing.

_Soon… it will all be over soon… but for now I can wait. I can use the time to think of the perfect design for both of our demises. I can ensure that when it finally happens it is impossibly beautiful._

For now, he would let his own self-destructive impulses pave the way.

* * *

They plotted. The weeks since Obi-Wan arrived on Dathomir had been so frenzied that he had forgotten that even though there was no place for him to go on his own, there were so many possibilities if they left here together.

What couldn't the two of them accomplish now that they no longer feared dying and had nothing else to lose?

“The Empire,” Obi-Wan murmured during a quieter moment, after they had finally worn each other out and were still entwined together. “It has to be destroyed.”

“An ambitious plan,” Maul said approvingly, running his fingers slowly down Obi-Wan's back, “but a fitting revenge.”

“It's not vengeance,” he protested, “it's for the good of the galaxy.”

“It's because they took everything from you. Do not lie: it _is_ vengeance.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted quietly after a moment, “it's vengeance.”

“Stop pretending to be a hero. You are not a hero… you were never a hero. What were you really?”

“A liar," he whispered. “I was a liar.”

Maul smiled. “There… isn't that better? To not have to lie anymore?”

Obi-Wan nodded mutely.

_I cut him in half, the same way I did on Naboo… but I don't stop. I keep cutting, and cutting, and cutting, and cutting—_

“What does your vengeance look like, then?” Maul asked.

“Erasing it. Making it so that the Empire never existed. So that no one remembers it.” The faint murmurs of the Dark Side around them seemed to approve.

_Burning Star Destroyers falling through the atmosphere. Cody and the others, punished for their betrayal. Everyone who stood by and let this happen… who applauded the destruction of the Republic, the destruction of the Jedi…_

“Destroying the Empire,” Maul said, his breath speeding up slightly, “would destroy Sidious. Just as destroying Sidious would destroy the Empire. The two are one.”

_Palpatine… I cannot think of a single punishment I would not inflict on him if I had the chance…_

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, feeling his back begin to arch. “I want that, more than anything.”

“His Empire took years to form. It may take years to bring it all down again.” His hands were moving again, down and down…

“Any regime relying on Darth Vader for its stability is already doomed to fail,” Obi-Wan pointed out, before his thoughts were briefly interrupted by a gasp of pleasure.

Vader (and Anakin) seemed like a distant ghost to him these days. It was easier to pretend that Vader was dead—that someone else, someone less weak and less foolish than Obi-Wan Kenobi, had killed him.

That lie wasn't very effective.

_Wouldn’t it be better if I didn’t have to lie anymore?_

“There are only two Sith,” Maul said, his hand holding him so tightly that Obi-Wan's vision briefly flashed white with pain. “With our combined efforts, we could easily destroy them.” He relaxed his grip.

The sudden relief drew a moan from the back of his throat. “No more Sith.” It was a wonderful thing to consider.

“And no more Jedi,” Maul countered. “Leaving us as the last echoes of both.”

He pulled Maul in close; one of them was shivering but he couldn't tell who. “You always wanted to destroy the Jedi; I always wanted to destroy the Sith. We both get what we want.”

“Not just what we want,” Maul purred in his ear, “what we _deserve."_

_I cut a hole in the hull of the ship, the same way I did over Ord Mantell. I pull us both into space and we die surrounded by the stars._

* * *

Their plans were just plans, nothing more… for a week or two.

Then something changed.

An alert on the comm unit sounded: a ship had exited hyperspace and was approaching the planet.

_Who would willingly come to a place like this?_

But suddenly, Obi-Wan could feel it: a familiar presence, dark and bright at the same time. So intense in the Force that there was barely room for anything else.

_Anakin. Vader. He’s here. He’s coming._

Maul was standing beside him now. His expression made it obvious what had happened. “What have you done?” Obi-Wan asked, horrified.

“What was necessary,” Maul said.

“You contacted him? You brought him here?” He was beginning to panic.

_Not now. Not yet. Not him._

Maul was actually smiling. “This confrontation was fated to happen eventually… and you are ready for it now. Look at how powerful you have become now that you've embraced what you truly are.” He summoned Obi-Wan's lightsaber with the Force and pressed it into his hand. “You can defeat him easily, and then our revenge will truly begin. Without his greatest weapon, Sidious is weakened—he would be no match for us.” He wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's hand and the lightsaber it was holding. “And then there would be no limit to what we could accomplish.”

“I can't do this.”

“Yes, you can—of _course_ you can. He is your last link to your past, the last link to all of those lies that you told yourself, everything that was holding you back. You can finally be free. All you need to do,” he pulled Obi-Wan in for a kiss, “is cut the thread.”

Obi-Wan tried to shake his head, but their faces were too close for him to move. “No… no, I can't face him again, not so soon…” He was pleading; he could sense Vader through the Force, he would be here any minute…

“I can help you, if you wish,” Maul said, brushing his lips along Obi-Wan's jawline. “It would be our first kill together… we could enjoy it… take our time…”

The combination of his words and touch was almost overwhelming; Obi-Wan fought back a shudder. He also fought back the urge to just give in, to fall back down into that rich, beautiful darkness, to let his basest instincts run wild, full of hunger and rage.

If it had been anyone but Anakin, he would have done it.

“No,” Obi-Wan said, stepping away. “I'm not going to kill him.”

Maul's eyes flashed with anger. “You need this, Kenobi—can't you see that? You _want_ to do this, you just won't admit it to yourself. All you have to do is remember how much you hate him—”

“You're wrong.” The seductive pull he felt only moments ago vanished. “And you're wrong about me—you don't understand anything about me, because you just got something very, _very_ wrong.” He tightened his grip on his lightsaber. “I don't hate Anakin. Even now.”

Maul snorted with derision. “You dismembered him—”

“I warned him, I told him to surrender, I gave him a chance—”

“You left him to _burn_ —”

“Because I couldn't kill him!”

“Your emotions make you weak, Kenobi—”

Obi-Wan laughed in disbelief. _"My_ emotions? What do you call all this? Everything that happened here was driven by _your_ emotions, by _your_ single-minded obsession with me.”

“None of which you objected to,” Maul snarled, but Obi-Wan could see something desperate growing behind his yellow eyes.

“I didn't object… that's true,” Obi-Wan agreed softly. He stepped closer and placed his left hand on Maul's cheek. “But none of this was my idea… it was all yours.” He leaned in even closer so that he could whisper right in his ear: “Your feelings for me have made you weak.”

His thumb brushed the ignition switch on the saber in his hand.

It happened too fast for thought, too fast to avoid: Obi-Wan drove his lightsaber into Maul's abdomen.

After a moment, in which all Maul could do was widen his eyes as the realization hit him, Obi-Wan yanked the blade up to the level of his sternum. He could hear the faint sizzle of the blade turning flesh and blood into charred gristle.

They collapsed to the ground. Obi-Wan let his saber drop and roll away as he cradled Maul in his arms.

“You did it correctly this time,” Maul said as his eyes began to lose their focus. “I should be grateful…”

There was nothing more that Obi-Wan could say, nothing more that he could do, except deliver a final kiss as the life drained out of Maul's body.

He finally pulled away when he heard the mechanical hiss of a respirator.

Darth Vader stood at the entrance.

“I like your new legs,” Obi-Wan remarked without fully turning to look at him. “They make you look taller.”

“You were here,” Vader said. His voice was absurdly deep, Obi-Wan noticed. “All of this time, you were here.”

“I was here.”

“You were here… with Maul.” Obi-Wan couldn't tell if Vader was disgusted, angry, or just confused; of course, he wouldn't be the first person to feel any of those things about this situation.

“I was here,” Obi-Wan confirmed, “with Maul.”

“After everything that he did… you _joined_ him?”

“Something like that,” Obi-Wan said, gazing down at the body that was still resting its head on his lap. He looked up at Vader and raised an ironic eyebrow. “You're not jealous, are you?”

In spite of the vocal modulator and his oddly-stilted speech pattern, the next words were all Anakin: “What _happened_ to you?”

Obi-Wan could only shrug. What _hadn't_ happened to him at this point? “Too many ghosts. I suppose I felt left out… and when you want to die, who better to spend your time with than the person who has sworn to destroy you?” He raised an eyebrow again. “I didn't know that you were still alive at the time, of course.”

“You have fallen so far,” Vader said, apparently considering something as he spoke, “but now you finally understand the power of the Dark Side. If you returned with me, the Emperor would be merciful. I could complete your training.”

“So you want to be the master now?” He couldn't help smiling a little at that.

“We are building a new order of Force-users, dedicated to hunting down the remaining Jedi. You would be the ideal person to lead the Inquisitorius.”

“Quite an impressive name.”

“We could be on the same side once more.” Vader held out a hand. “Join me.”

Poor Anakin, Obi-Wan thought. Still so desperate for his approval.

He shook his head. “Best not, I think. My time is long overdue at this point.”

“You… _want_ me to kill you?” Vader actually sounded uncomfortable.

Obi-Wan laughed at that. “If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can imagine.”

“How?”

“Because, unlike you, my pain will finally be at an end.”

Vader didn't take the bait. “Go on,” Obi-Wan said encouragingly, “it'll make us both feel better.”

The Sith that was once his apprentice… hesitated.

Obi-Wan gently shifted Maul's body off of his lap and stood up. “For what it's worth,” he said, “I'm sorry for not killing you on Mustafar.”

That was enough to harden Vader's resolve. He ignited his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached for the Force. The Light Side, the Dark Side… it didn't matter, not for this.

_I never asked Qui-Gon: if there was a Living Force, did that also mean there was a Dead Force?_

_I suppose I'll find out soon enough._

He could sense all of it, in that moment that seemed to last forever: the churning darkness at the planet's core, the life force of the stars, the indigo light of Darth Vader burning as strongly in the Dark Side as Anakin Skywalker blazed in the Light…

_Time to join the rest of the ghosts. Someone else will have to remember us._

The feeling of Vader's lightsaber slashing across his chest was every bit as magnificent as he had imagined it would be.

There was a “thank you” resting on his tongue, but it never reached any further than that.

He felt himself falling, felt the impact as he hit the ground, and felt the faint sensation of his fingers brushing against Maul's hand.

_He swore we would die in each other's arms._

_Close enough. This will have to do._

_I can finally rest._

Obi-Wan relaxed and released his final breath.

_There were too many clouds here to ever see the stars, but they must have been beautiful…_


End file.
